


Say My Name

by sonofnjobu



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Black Panther Smut, Black Reader, Choking, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-05-14 21:35:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14777654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonofnjobu/pseuds/sonofnjobu
Summary: Erik Killmonger happens upon someone who knows a little more about him than they should.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s my first fic on A03! 
> 
> A/N Smut smut smutty smut. Reader is Black. If you enjoy my writing, please comment.
> 
> CW: There is some choking.

“There you go. There you go,” he praised. Erik bit his lip and growled as he pumped in and out of you, his dick coated in your cream. Your legs were spread as far as they could go in this cramped club bathroom: one heel up against the empty paper towel dispenser and the other slipping off the side of the adjacent stall. Erik gripped your hips where he had pulled your dress up and you tried desperately to hold on the edge of the sink you were perched on.

He had decided on you the moment you entered the club. You were a sight to see: brown skin glowing under the lights, big natural hair claiming your space on the dance floor, thickness in all the right places… He liked a girl who bounced back when he hit.

You were bold too, exuding confidence when you’d locked eyes with him and beckoned him from the bar. He introduced himself, but you already knew who he was, and you had one objective that night.

–

The thundering bass of the night club outside barely masked your moans. Someone could walk in on you at any moment and the risk had Erik frenzied with lust.

“You love this shit,” Erik grunted, switching up to slow and deliberate strokes.

“Fuck,” you hissed as he hit your spot. Your hips bucked. He smiled devilishly at your reaction, gold canines peaking over the top of his bottom lip.

He was right. You did love this shit. Your pussy was absolutely dripping for him, eager to take his length. The squelching sounds mixed with his expert pipe laying were almost too much for you to bear, and your legs began to quiver.

“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” Erik picked up his pace again. A tightness began to form in your core and your moans became higher and more strangled with every thrust.

“Cum on this dick, girl.”

That was it. You exploded. Pleasure crashed over your body and expanded out to the very tips of your fingers and toes. You clutched his forearm as the electricity racked through you. He continued to fuck you mercilessly.

You hadn’t even come down when he wrapped his arm around your waist and lifted you from the sink. Ain’t no man ever picked your thick ass up before and he did it effortlessly, fueled by desire.

“I ain’t done with you.” Erik set you down and flipped you around. Eager for more, you bent over the sink and lifted your ass in the air. He acknowledged your offering with a hard slap across your cheeks. You gasped at the pain. He hit you a few more times before he slid in and went to work.

You pressed your hand up against the mirror for leverage. You watched him as you pushed back and met his every stroke. His dreads fell across his face and his gorgeous Black skin glistened with sweat. He was so focused. Like he was on a mission.

You felt the tightness begin to build again and your moans turned in to mewling. Erik looked up and made eye contact with you in the mirror. His face changed and his pumping became more desperate. His fingers dug in to your hips and he began to breathe rapidly.

“Fuck, girl. Fuck. I’m gonna cum,” he announced through gritted teeth. He was slamming in to you now and you were at your edge.

“Say my name,” he demanded.

You couldn’t say anything. Your mouth was open in a silent scream and your muscles were tense. He pulled you up by your elbows in to a standing position while he fucked you violently. The one ceiling light in the bathroom began to swim before your eyes.

“Say it!” he roared as ropes of hot cum suddenly filled you.

You broke and shook violently.

“N’Jadaka!” you cried, gasping for air. His name was almost swallowed by the music. But he heard it.

His hand closed around your throat as he pulled out of you. With all of his might he slammed you up against the bathroom door. The load he’d just dumped in you began to drip down your legs. His eyes were crazed. The lust there only moments before was replaced with rage.

“How do you know that name?” Erik barked at you. His hold on you tightened and when you didn’t answer he slammed you against the wall again. “Who are you?”

He was up in your face, nostrils flaring. Everything else was still.

You began to laugh.

“You think we don’t know about you?” You continued to laugh.

Erik remained stone faced, calculating behind his eyes.

“You think your father could just disappear and there wouldn’t be those of us who are still loyal to him?”

Erik felt a stinging behind his eyes as the familiar rage began to creep up his spine. He exhaled sharply.

“Who is we?” he asked. You stuck your lip out in a pout in reply.

He slowly moved his thumb off of your throat and pulled down your bottom lip to reveal a glowing blue War Dog tattoo.

“I’ve been sent to get you.”


	2. Say My Name Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Okay, y’all, here it is. Honestly, this story scared me a little bit writing it. It gets dark before it gets sexy. So you’ve been warned. Hopefully you enjoy it. 
> 
> Reader is Black.
> 
> If you enjoy my writing, please comment.
> 
> CW: Violence, the general abuse of Black people around the world but particularly America, smut smut smut

Erik sat in the overcrowded coffee shop and tried his hardest to focus on his studies. He had about two hours before his next class and had decided not to go home in between.

He’d been out in public more often than usual, hoping to run in to you somewhere. It had been almost a week since his encounter with you in the club.

You had left him with all of his questions unanswered. How and what did the War Dogs know about him? Why hadn’t they reached out before? What had you been sent to get him for? You hadn’t even left him with any contact information. Simply your name.

Erik had called in a few favors, but your name didn’t pull up any results. This wasn’t surprising. Of course you were off the grid. All of Wakanda was off the grid.

Erik huffed and pulled off his gold rimmed glasses. He rubbed his eyes in frustration. He really needed to focus on this upcoming exam. The military was paying his MIT tuition, and success would open some crucial doors for him.

“Is there anyone sitting here?” A voice next to him asked.

“Nah.” Erik continued to massage his temples and loosely gestured to the chair across from him in invitation. He heard the scrape of the chair’s feet against the wooden floor as his new table mate sat down. He put his glasses back on and tried to read the same paragraph again for the third time. Erik settled back in to the monotonous din of the coffee shop, determined to get some work done.

“It’s nice to see you again, N’Jadaka,” you purred.

Erik’s head snapped up from his books.

He sucked his teeth in disbelief. The very person he’d been trying hardest to track down was sitting across from him in a coffee shop arm chair.

He had to give it to you. You were smooth with it. You blended in perfectly with everyone in here; black leggings, oversized Harvard sweatshirt, hair up in a quick bun. It was a brilliant disguise. You looked like any other college student. He hadn’t even seen you coming.

You shifted your weight, your thick thighs taking up the entire seat. You smiled at him from behind your latte.

“How have you been?”

“It’s been six days,” Erik spat.

“Yeah? And?” You were still smiling.

“You tell me you’ve been sent to get me and then I don’t hear anything from you for six days,” Erik reiterated. You rolled your eyes.

“I had class, nigga!” You gestured to the backpack deposited on the floor next to you.

Erik raised his eyebrows. His gold caps glinted for a moment as he scoffed. You really took this disguise thing seriously.

“You got in to Harvard?”

“What? Like it’s hard?”

You snorted in to your drink. He didn’t seem to get the joke. You could tell that Erik was beginning to get fed up. You did owe him some answers.

“Okay! Okay!” you conceded, putting your cup down on your shared table. “Come with me.”

You pushed yourself out of the arm chair and swung your bag over your shoulder. Erik made no moves to get up. He simply glared at you, wondering what you were playing at. His eyes darted to your wrist as your kimoyo beads lit up and began to vibrate. The message was urgent.

You weren’t going to try to convince him. You simply walked away. He would follow.

–

Erik stepped in to your apartment and exhaled loudly.

“Hooooo! This is a nice spot you got here, girl!” He took in the futuristic, yet minimalist studio.

“Thanks. I printed it,” you said offhandedly as you pressed a bead to return the urgent call from earlier. Erik shook his head. Of course you did. Erik tried not to look shocked as a fully formed person projected from your wrist.

“Brother,” you addressed the man.

“Captain,” he replied. His voice rumbled through the room as if he were standing in it. “The girls have been located and extracted. They are being moved to a secure location, as we speak.”

“How many?” you demanded.

“37,” your brother replied. You winced. That was five less than you had hoped. “Our perpetrators are still inside. I estimate we have T-5 minutes before they notice that their merchandise is missing.”

“Move in,” you ordered. Your brother nodded curtly and ended the call.

The panels on your white walls flickered to life and you could see his view. Erik watched, enraptured as the faction of War Dogs silently crept towards what seemed to be an abandoned production plant. Your eyes didn’t leave the screen as you narrated.

“We’ve been tracking these pieces of shit for a while. They’ve been abducting Black and Indigenous girls and selling them in to slavery, but it hasn’t been covered in the news. It happens at a frequency of sometimes 12 in a month and yet the American public couldn’t give a damn,” your voice dripped with malice.

“Flint, Michigan has been without clean water for over 4 years and their government keeps them there under threat of arrest if they try to sell their properties or refuse to pay for poisoned water.”

You held up a thin square of glowing blue mesh.

“These vibranium filters will deal with both the lead and the trihalomethanes. I’ve got a team in place to install them. It’s enough vibranium to be effective, but not enough for anyone to identify it. That leaves the government officials and big business to be dealt with.”

“Police brutality. Drugs. The execution of protestors. Food deserts. The school to prison pipeline. The housing crisis. And that’s just in America. Enough.”

You turned to look at Erik now, shoulders square and jaw set.

“Over 500 years of asking our oppressors to stop has gotten us very little. We cannot rely on the wrongdoers to wake up one morning and realize they are wrong. Your father knew that was true. Wakanda can help them all. We are called War Dogs, not peace keepers. It’s time to wage war. You know this to be true, Erik Stevens. We need you.”

Erik felt the familiar rush of adrenaline as he turned back to the screen. This view was almost identical to his in Black Ops. He lived for this moment. This is everything he wanted.

“Fuck the place up,” you ordered.

Vibranium spears whistled through the air. Erik watched in awe as the building exploded. He could practically feel the knock-back through the screen. The flames danced high in the air and reflected in his glasses.

“Are you in, N’Jadaka?” you asked. Your voice was barely audible above the explosions and the screaming. He stood there for a moment, unmoving. He took in the scene, reveling in the feeling of revolution. He was definitely in.

In one swift motion, Erik grabbed you by the shoulders and threw you on the bed. You laughed madly as you bounced, taking it as a yes.

Erik ripped his shirt over his head, revealing his heavily scarred chest. His glasses fell to the floor with the discarded clothing. You had barely removed your sweatshirt before he was on you. His lips crashed to yours. He kissed you rabidly, biting on your bottom lip. The faint blue glow of your tattoo drove him mad.

He slipped his right hand under the waist band of your leggings, smirking at you when he realized you had no panties on. His muscular fingers skirted across your opening, his fingers dragging through the sticky wetness a few times before he dipped his middle finger in.

You were even more ready that he remembered. Your pussy absolutely swallowed his finger and gripped it tight at the base of his knuckle. He kissed you again and you moaned in to his mouth as his hands set in to a rhythm. He curled his finger slightly and you jumped as he grazed your spot. He added another finger to do it again. Your pussy greedily took it.

“More,” you demanded against his lips.

Erik removed his fingers and you cried out at the sudden emptiness. With both hands, he pulled your leggings off and threw them to the floor. You reached up to help him with his belt.

His dick sprang free from his jeans, hard and ready. You rolled back and spread your legs, eager to receive him. You were so wet that after lining himself up with your hole, he was able to sheath himself to the hilt in one deliberate thrust.

You gasped at the girth of it. Erik buried his face in your neck as he pushed even farther in to your depths with each thrust. Your warm, wet, velvet folds had him moaning in pleasure as you lifted your hips to his. Thrust for thrust you matched him as if in a stand-off. 

You had one hand pressed up against the headboard and the other clawing in to his back when it started. Your moans got higher with every pump, and the muscles in your thighs began to tighten. Erik noticed the change and quickened his pace. He lifted his head from your neck to look at your face.

Your eyes were closed and your brow furrowed as you approached your orgasm. Your mouth hung open in between your repeated mantra of “Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck!”

Erik watched, bewitched as you came undone around him. Your legs shook, your nails dug in to his back, and your walls milked his dick. He could do nothing more to appreciate the piece of art you were than to fuck you harder. To see that again.

Your moans turned in to begging as he drove you towards the edge again.

“Please please please please…”

You didn’t even know what you were asking for. You just didn’t want it to end. You had barely come down before you were there again, clutching to his chest for dear life as he pounded you.

Your eyes flew open, meeting Erik’s mere inches from your face.

“Say my name,” you gasp, bucking your hips wildly in to his.

Erik exhaled loudly. He had been holding his breath as his own orgasm threatened to fire. Your sudden request had broken his steely resolve.

“Say it!” you cry, reaching a height you didn’t know was possible.

Erik dropped his head back down to your neck. His lips were mere inches from your ear when he whispered it.

When your name fell from his lips, it was the end. An orgasm of cosmic proportions thundered through you and you practically blacked out. You screamed out in to the abyss, as you were filled with hot, spurting cum. You weren’t sure if the roar you heard was the pounding of your own blood in your head or Erik, but everything was a rush. Your muscles contracted with such strength that Erik was forced out of you, the cum following and pooling on to the bed sheets.

Erik collapsed next to you and the two of you spent a few minutes just breathing. You stared at the ceiling and began to smile, feeling a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment.

Eventually, you turned to him and dragged your hand across his chest. He saw you counting his scars. He figured he could explain it to you of all people.

“Traditional,” you hummed before he could say anything. Erik looked at you incredulously.

“This is how you count how many people you’ve killed?” you ask. He nodded.

You sat up and straddled him, surveying his torso from above. You noticed that his arms were still smooth.

“You’re going to have to start a sleeve.”


	3. Say My Name Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I didn’t expect to get invested in this plot. It started out as just smut and yet here we are. 
> 
> CW: Abduction
> 
> Reader is Black. If you enjoy my writing, please comment.  
> Also someone pointed out to me a clear similarity between this and iRobot and I'll admit, I see it too.

You stood silently, head tilted towards the ceiling to muffle your heavy breathing. You had wedged yourself behind a hidden panel in your apartment wall. You’d had no time to escape or plan. They were coming for you.

You waited, straining to hear above the pounding of your heart.

You’d awoken in the early hours to your kimoyo beads burning in to your wrist. You’d answered the urgent call from your brother, expecting nothing more than a status update on his most recent War Dog assignment.

“Y/N!” he shouted, formalities forgotten. “Y/N, get out! We’ve been compromised.”

You blinked rapidly at the projection, trying to shake the sleep from your eyes.

“Brother, what do you-”

“They’re coming for you! Run!”

His image cut out and you shot straight out of your bed. You had expected this, but not so soon. You were reaching for your bug out bag under your bed when you heard the faint, but all too familiar whir of a Wakandan ship’s engine.

You abandoned your exit plan, electing instead to hide. But first, you ripped off your kimoyo beads and shoved them in your freezer alongside a quickly scribbled note. You pulled a disguised panel off of the wall and slid behind it, closing it gingerly.

It locked back in place with a small thud.

You waited.

But not for long.

In mere moments, the brightly clad Dora Milaje had entered your apartment, turned it over, and extracted you from your hole in the wall.

You did not fight. You knew it would be fruitless. Instead, as they read you your charges as a rogue War Dog, you remained quiet. Silence was your final weapon. Silence just might save your life.

–

It had been well over two and a half years since you recruited Erik to join the resistance. Between his military tours in special operations and his dealings with the War Dogs, the two of you had seen little of one another. But that didn’t mean that when you were together things weren’t hot and heavy. You’d fallen in to a comfortable routine of sorts. First you’d fuck each other and then you’d fuck the system. Your love affair had global consequences, but you assured yourselves that it was for the greater good.

Erik had a key to your apartment. Sometimes he’d crash there in between missions, and he didn’t necessarily expect you to be home. But this time, when he pushed open the unlocked door, he knew something was wrong.

Your mattress had been flipped and your drawers rifled through. Your desk had been stripped of all of your Wakandan technology and the hidden panel in your wall was cracked.

Erik froze in the doorway, pushing back the haunting memories racing to the forefront of his mind. He did not want to enter. He did not want to find you dead on the floor just like he had found his father.

His breath hitched and his throat tightened as he cautiously stepped over the threshold.

Someone had taken you. Everything you would have brought with you had you left voluntarily was still in the apartment. Anger and desperation began to build up inside of him as he searched for any clues as to where you might be… if you were still alive. He found nothing.

“Fuck!” Erik yelled, his fist colliding with the wall. The pain of the impact was amplified by the familiar sense of loss, and Erik continued to beat in to the wall. He should have fucking known. The War Dogs had been radio silent since he returned from his last assignment with the US government in Beirut. Something had obviously been wrong.

His hands shook as he searched for your mailbox key. The mail could give him a general timeline of when you were last here.

Erik was halfway out the door when he stopped abruptly. He’d heard something else above the jingling of his keys. He strained his ears to hear it again.

There it was.

A small, muffled chime rang somewhere in the apartment.

And again.

Erik followed the sound, stopping every few feet and waiting to hear it again. It was coming from your fridge. He opened the main door carefully. The cold failed to mask the pungent smell of rotting food. You’d had to have been gone for the greater part of a month. Erik held his breath and listened again.

The chime was coming from your freezer. Erik opened the door and plunged his hand inside. The ice maker had overflowed since you left, and whatever was ringing was incased in the cubes. Erik ripped the block from the freezer and slammed it against the counter. Ice scattered across the kitchen while the chiming continued.

After a few more hits, the ice released your bracelet and a waterlogged piece of paper. Erik carefully picked up the glowing kimoyo beads as they sang to him. He squinted at the hastily written note.

“Say my name,” it read.

It was definitely your handwriting. Erik just knew the note was meant for him, and he suddenly had a glimmer of hope that you were still alive.

“Y/N?” he called out in to the apartment, looking around skeptically.

“Hey, babe!” your voice replied.

Erik whipped around, searching for you in your studio apartment. You weren’t there, but your image projected out of your bracelet.

“What the fuck happened here?” Erik asked frantically. “Where are you?”

“If you’re seeing this, Erik, it means they’ve got me,” you replied. Your response seemed canned. Erik came to the slow realization that this was a recording. The pain in his heart crept back in.

“I’ve been expecting this, honestly. They call us rogue. I say it’s more freelance…” you rolled your eyes. “But they’re cleaning us up, I guess. King T’Chaka is set to attend an international summit, so they’ll be tightening the reigns. Apparently, that includes me…” your voice trailed off.

“Anyways, babe. I’ve logged some information and answers in here for you in case I’m gone,” you continued. “You can control my beads by saying my name and asking a question. Like, Siri!” you laughed.

Erik winced. He wondered if that was the last time he’d hear you laugh. Your eyes squinted when you smiled because your cheeks were so round. He missed that.

“Where are you?” he whispered.

“I do not know. Ask a different question,” was your automated reply.

“Where would they take you?” Erik tried again.

Your image flipped to a different file. Your face was more stoic.

“They’ve probably taken me back to Wakanda. I’ll stand trial and most likely be imprisoned in the capital,” you scoffed.

“Are you okay?”

“I do not know. Ask a different question.”

Erik huffed in exasperation, tears threatening the brims of his eyes. His slipped your bracelet on to his wrist. It was still ice cold to the touch.

He’d have to ask the right questions. Erik racked his brain, but couldn’t figure where to start. Your recording timed out and your projection disappeared.

He gripped your handwritten note tightly and gathered up the little supplies left in your apartment. This was the worst place for him to be.

“Y/N?”

“Hey, babe!”

“Are they coming for me?” Erik asked.

“They still do not know you exist. You are safe.”

“Lucky me,” he grumbled, throwing your bug out bag over his shoulder and heading down the stairs.

“How do I get to Wakanda?”

You pulled up a map and began to explain the intricacies of entering the country. You flipped through multiple entry plans that you had laid out for him, knowing that he would one day return to the motherland.

Erik spent the rest of the day and well in to the night asking careful questions, most of which were answered with “I do not know. Ask a different question.” He was close to snatching the bracelet off and chucking it against the wall when he decided to try something else.

“Y/N?”

“Hey, babe!”

“What’s your favorite song?”

Your image flipped to a file recorded on a completely different day. You were wearing his sweatshirt and singing in your bathroom. Erik watched and listened, entranced as you danced around and sang into a hairbrush. It hadn’t occurred to him that your entire life was stored on these beads as well.

He replayed that scene multiple times that night.

He had to get you back. He couldn’t lose something else… someone else. Wakanda continued to steal from him. He was owed a debt that was well past due.

The recording timed out and disappeared, leaving him alone in the darkness with his thoughts. The only thing that kept the rage at bay was the thought of you.

“Y/N?”

“Hey, babe!” Your image flitted to life. The ethereal glow filled the room.

“I love you,” he muttered. He’d never admitted it before, but fuck it. What would it hurt?

“That’s not a question,” you replied. A knowing smirk curled on your face. Erik looked at you quizzically. You’d recorded a file just for that?

“Do you love me?” he asked carefully.

“More than anything,” you replied. “Now come and get me.”


	4. Say My Name Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a surprise mini chapter. But we’re starting to align with canon, so it’s important.   
> Say hello to Linda.
> 
> Part 5 is coming out REAL soon.
> 
> Reader is Black. If you enjoy my writing, please comment.

It had been a little over half a year since you’d been taken from him.

Erik exhausted all the questions he could think of for your pre-recordings. All he had left were smaller files filled with your selfies, videos of you cooking, singing or dancing, and a few to-do lists.

He’d stopped watching them. They hurt too much. Every time he said your name, he ripped open any haphazard healing he’d done. He needed to focus on his mission to overthrow Wakanda. He couldn’t get lost in silly videos of the past. He couldn’t get caught up in his feelings for you.

So he drowned himself in his work and women. He wasn’t proud of it, but it kept his head clear. His latest bed mate seemed keen to assist him with his plans. He’d met her in London while scouting out a site. Her name was probably Linda. But he wasn’t sure and it was far too late to ask.

She had the skill set he needed and she kept his bed warm.

Though he no longer spoke of you, he continued to wear your Kimoyo beads. They sat quiet and cold against his wrist every day. Linda had asked about them, intrigued by the design, but Erik told her nothing. He simply dicked her down instead. She always stopped asking questions after sex.

Until one day.

Erik awoke abruptly. He’d thought he’d heard your voice. He shot up in his bed and looked frantically around the room before realizing that it was impossible and he’d probably just been dreaming about you again. He reached over to pull Linda closer to him, but found her side of the bed empty. He was sure she had stayed the night last night.

But then he heard it again. Your voice coming from the master bathroom. Erik scrambled up and pushed open the door, his heart pounding wildly. Inside he found Linda, perched against the side of the tub, holding your Kimoyo beads in her hands. She had slipped them off of him in his sleep when they suddenly turned on. A new video of you singing projected upwards.

 

> _“Happy birthday to you!_
> 
> _Happy birthday to you!_
> 
> _Happy birthday, dear N’Jadaka._
> 
> _Happy birthday to youuuuuu!”_

 

Of course you’d recorded this. Even lost, you’d never forget his birthday. Erik felt as though his heart would rip through his chest as he stared at your image. You wore a mini party hat and continued to sing.

 

> _“Second verse! Same as the first!_
> 
> _A little bit louder and a WHOLE LOT WORSE!_
> 
> _HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!_
> 
> _HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!_
> 
> _HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR N’JADAKA!_
> 
> _HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!”_

 

Linda stood from the side of the tub, gripping the beads in fury. She stalked up to him and waved the bracelet in his face.

“Who the fuck is this?!” she yelled over your singing. Erik stared at her blankly, waiting for her to get over her little tantrum and realize who she was talking to.

“And it’s your birthday?! You never even told me when your birthday was!” Linda pushed against his chest. Erik didn’t budge.

“How does SHE know? Who is she, Erik!? Who is this hoe?”

That was it. He’d had enough. Erik grabbed Linda’s wrist and twisted in behind her back. He pushed her up against the bathroom counter and forced her head in to the mirror all in one swift motion. She screamed and he tightened the grip on the back of her neck.

“You think you can just touch my shit, bitch?” Erik hissed in Linda’s ear. “You think you run any of this?”

Linda whimpered, realizing her mistake. Her panicked breathing fogged the mirror slightly. She had known Erik was dangerous, but she’d never seen him this mad. He could snap her in half right now if he wanted to. The last thing she’d hear could be you singing Happy Birthday.

“Nah, you wanna be bold, be fucking bold. Say what you were going to say,” Erik demanded, murder in his voice.

“I’m sorry, Erik!” Linda cried. “I’m sorry!”

Erik ripped the Kimoyo beads from her hand and released his grip on her entirely. He said your name to interrupt your singing and allowed your projection to go dark. He slid the bracelet back on to his wrist, a small it of your soul dormant against his flesh.

He was still seething when Linda slowly turned around. She chose her words carefully.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to be able to do something special for your birthday… Daddy.”

Erik cocked his eyebrow at the pet name as she approached him again. He knew she liked it rough, but this was new. He’d just threatened her life and she was in to it. Linda reached out and lightly caressed his arm as though she were testing the waters. When he didn’t rebuff her, she pressed her body up against his and tugged at the drawstrings of his pajama pants.

“Let me do something special for you, Daddy,” she repeated.

Erik chuckled, his chest rumbling as he did so.

“You’ll do anything I want for my birthday?” he asked. Linda nodded enthusiastically, sliding her hands in to his pants.

Erik caught her at the wrist and she gasped again, this time turned on rather than fearful.

He brought his lips to her ear and whispered.

“Then get dressed. The museum opens in an hour.”


	5. Say My Name Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik said he was coming to get you and he's a man of his word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m so excited about this! I can’t even handle it. I had to break this chapter up in to two parts though cause it was getting too long. But! That means you have a part 6 to look forward to that is coming very soon!

“I’m sorry, Erik!” Linda cried, this time with Ulysses Klaue’s arm around her neck and his gun to her head. He’d heard that from her a lot, recently.

 

“It’ll be okay,” he said to himself before shooting Linda in the head.

 

Erik had left her body there, electing instead to bring Klaue’s body as his bargaining chip into Wakanda. He left her passport on her chest in the hopes that her body could be returned to her loved ones. He wasn’t a complete animal.

 

He made a mental note to carve a scar in to his skin for her later as he flew the tiny hanger plane south west towards Wakanda.

 

After days of travel, Erik’s heart soared as he touched down on Wakandan soil for the first time. This was the closest he had felt to his father since his murder. It was also the closest he’d felt to you since you’d been abducted: a feeling accentuated when the kimoyo beads on his wrist lit up and your face appeared.

 

“Welcome home, N’Jadaka.”

 

\--

 

Once his father’s death had been avenged and he’d won the titles of king and Black Panther from T’Challa, finding you was Erik’s first priority. With the flames of the burning heart shaped herbs dancing in his eyes, he turned to the shaman woman.

 

“Y/N. Where is she?”

 

The old woman shrunk back as he spoke, a look of confusion on her face. She obviously did not know you, but was afraid to upset him.

 

“The prisoners. Where do they keep them?” Erik tried again.

 

“We do not have prisoners in Wakanda,” she informed him. She scrambled to appease him as he glared. Her hands shot to her neck. “But we do have an old prison that has been out of use for generations.”

 

\--

 

The shaman was wrong. The prison had not been out of use for generations. It was very much populated and running. Erik had a feeling that it was kept secret from the general population, as there was one singular guard posted at the entrance of the jail.

 

It was old, however; completely unlike modern Wakandan technology. The prisoners were housed in one giant, rotating column operated by a singular hand crank. Each cell was shaped like a wedge, and prisoners only received daylight if they were fortunate enough to have their cell line up with the lone exit. Aside from that they were left in the dark with their own thoughts. The walls separating the cells were solid, so inmates could not even communicate with one another.

 

It was barbaric and inhumane.

 

Erik found himself hoping that you weren’t here.

 

“Y/N. Rogue War Dog,” Erik informed the guard.

 

The man simply nodded and moved to the hand crank. He cranked with all of his might. The cylindrical structure began to move. It creaked and squealed as it turned. The prisoners inside moaned and wailed as their cells passed by the door, desperate to be let out.

 

“Y/N?” he muttered, his voice breaking as the tower came to a screeching halt. He strained his eyes to see in to the dark and dingy cell. He didn’t even notice that he was holding his breath.

 

“Hey, babe.”

 

Erik exhaled sharply, as you came in to view. You limped slightly as you approached him, shielding your eyes from the unfamiliar light. You’d lost some weight and were visibly exhausted, but you smiled when you saw him. Your soul was still intact. You were alive. He wasn’t too late.

 

Erik let out an unexpected sob. A few tears escaped him and ran down his face.

 

“Get this door open! Get her out!” he barked at the guard.

 

The man rushed over, a ring of keys jingling in his shaky hand. He struggled to find the right key. After his fifth try, Erik stepped forward, pushed him out of the way and ripped the door from its hinges with his newfound strength. He reached for you and pulled you out in to the hallway as though he feared that if you continued to stand within the cell, you’d be locked away from him again.

 

“I knew you’d come and get me,” you sighed, melting a bit in his arms.

 

“Y/N! Are you alright?” was all he managed to get out before immediately looking you over. His hands ran over your body, checking for damages. He lifted your shirt to find your back littered with scars from lashings.

 

You chucked lightly. “Now we match.”

 

Erik’s face darkened as he traced his fingers over the poorly tended to cuts.

 

“Who did this to you?” he demanded, ice in his voice.

 

Your eyes drifted over to the prison guard who stood shaking in the corner. His knuckles blanched from his tight grip on the key ring. He looked at you with pleading eyes, so unlike the cruel ones he usually gave you.

 

“It was him,” you whispered.

 

Identified, the man instantly dropped to his knees.

 

“I am sorry, my King!” he pleaded. “I was simply following the orders of our Late King T’Chaka!”

 

Erik tensed at the name. It would never be spoken in these halls again.

The guard looked up slightly, and gestured at you.

 

“She is…” He corrected himself. “WAS a traitor, sir.”

 

You lifted your chin and curled your lips in disgust. You were hardly a traitor to Wakanda. You were a visionary. A revolutionist. You had been doing good, and this man did evil under the façade of loyalty.

 

You looked to Erik, ready for him to end this man for what he’d done to you. But Erik remained still.

 

“I understand,” Erik replied. Your eyes widened in shock. “You were simply following orders.”

 

The guard let out a sigh of relief, dropping his head slightly. He recognized how close he had come to death in that moment.

 

“Meet us in the throne room this evening,” Erik demanded of him. The guard scrambled back to his feet, a thankful smile on his face.

 

“But first, release all of these prisoners.”

 

“But, sir!” the guard balked. “Rotating this cage on every level will take ages. There are over 150 prisoners and I must turn the crank myself.”

 

“Then you had better get started,” Erik sneered. “You are expected in the throne room at 8.”

 

Erik grabbed your hand and began to walk away. You limped behind him for a bit before he swept you up in his arms bridal style and carried you all of the way back to the palace.

 

\--

 

Erik ran you a hot oatmeal bath to soothe your skin. The two of you sat in silence as the tub filled and Erik expertly cleaned out your wounds. You hissed and pulled back as the disinfectant hit some of your fresher lashes.

 

“I’m sorry,” Erik whispered, unsure of how to talk to you. He’d gotten so used to you not actually responding, to you not actually being right in front of him, that he found himself shy.

 

He led you carefully to the bath, mindful of your limp and gingerly lowered you in to the water.

 

You flexed your toes in the cloudy water. It had been months since you’d felt anything but concrete beneath your feet.

 

Erik sat behind you on the lip of the tub and ran water over your hair. He diligently detangled it and rubbed your scalp with his fingertips. He took note of how much longer your hair had gotten as he lathered it with shampoo.

 

You hadn’t the entire time you’d been imprisoned, but you suddenly began to cry. You didn’t know what set you off. But here, in this moment, you felt safe to do so for the first time. You pulled your knees up to your chest and clutched them tightly. The first few tears were silent, but a shuddering breath in gave you away.

 

Erik stopped abruptly, worried he’d hurt you. He watched as your back racked with sobs.

 

The relief he had felt upon finding you alive was replaced with fury for the injustices you suffered. He held it in and didn’t let his heartbreak show while he continued to clean you, hoping the warm water would bring you comfort.

 

He eventually finished and helped you out of the bath. He wrapped you in a warm robe and sat you down on a plush vanity stool.

 

How stark in contrast your life was now to the past six months.

 

Erik propped himself on one knee to level with you. He took a deep breath as he prepared to speak to the real you and not the one on his wrist.

 

“I did it, Y/N,” he started. “I avenged my father. I became the Black Panther. Wakanda is mine.”

 

You smiled at him, pride growing in your chest.

 

“And I never… NEVER could have done it without you. Your drive, your grit, your resilience are all unmatched,” Erik professed, never losing eye contact with you.

 

“I owe a debt to you, Wakanda owes a debt to you, and the world owes a debt to you. And I want you to have it. The world. It’s changing and needs you to lead it… to make it better like you made me better.”

 

You hastily wiped your eyes as tears threatened you again.

 

“You are already my queen, Y/N,” Erik continued. “But will you be my wife?”

 

The first true smile he’d seen from you flashed across your face as you clutched his hands.

 

“Yes!”

 

Erik stared at you with the silliest grin on his face. Like a child who had just won a game.

 

“What?” you questioned him.

 

“I was kind of expecting you to say ‘ _I do not know. Ask a different question;’_ ” he joked as he removed his father’s ring from his necklace. He slid it on to your finger.

 

“Meet me in the throne room at 8.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to know what the jail cell looks like, google "squirrel cage jail." That's shit was real and SOOOOO so wrong.


	6. Say My Name Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re back to your full glory and have your sights set on truly winning Wakanda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though Erik’s acting all romantic and shit, let’s not forget he’s crazy. Reader is Black. If you enjoy my writing, please comment.

Your heart thundered in chest as your attendants slipped you in to an extravagant, gold gown. Despite everyone’s efforts to relax you, you still found yourself nervous. It was your wedding day after all. Who wouldn’t be nervous?

Erik had arranged for an entire spa experience for you, summoning the best of Wakanda to your chambers.

It was almost as if he knew you’d say yes.

After a medical exam, a massage, hair and makeup, you were ready. You felt like an entirely different person than you were that morning, dejected and dirty in the corner of your cell. That wasn’t you. You felt rejuvenated, and your spirit strengthened.

Your stylist spun you around to face the gilded mirror. You looked yourself up and down. A coy smirk spread across your face.

Yeah. There she was.

You finally recognized yourself. The head bitch in charge was back, and ready for this moment.

Two maids strapped your heels to your ankles, and you were set. You thanked each team member individually before taking a deep breath and stepping in to the throne room.

Music filled the expansive hall. The ceiling twinkled with lights and lanterns, and hibiscus flower petals acted as your aisle. The Dora Milaje stood at attention around the perimeter. Many of them smiled warmly at you, recognizing you from your times together in grade school. Others were understandably cold.

Erik stood, draped in Black robes with a stunning golden necklace encircling his neck. His dreads were carefully braided back. His eyes were warm and inviting. You started your march towards him until something caught your eye.

You hesitated for a moment, having noticed the jailer standing to the side of the room. You took a few steps backwards and stumbled over the train of your dress. You were scared and angry that he still scared you. You were supposed to be the one in power now, but merely hours before he held your life in his hands and a whip across your back.

You looked frantically to Erik, eyes wide with fear. He recognized the panic setting in. Erik strode over to you with long confident steps and pulled your face to his.

“Mm mm,” he shook his head. He spoke low and deliberately “Only look at me. They are only here at witnesses. It’s a formality. This is just you and me, girl.”

You nodded, keeping your eyes trained on him. Erik hooked his arm into yours and the two of you walked down the aisle together.

The ceremony was fast and to the point. He gave the standard vows, promising to love, cherish, and care for you. He also promised you a larger, more lavish and highly publicized wedding later. He just wanted to be able to call you his queen as quickly as possible.

All of your cares instantly melted away when he pressed his lips to yours for the first time in over a year. Though only one kiss was needed to seal the contract of your marriage, you pulled his lips back to yours again and again and again, never wanting the moment to end. You felt him smile against your lips and laugh after the sixth or so kiss. He laced his fingers in to yours and addressed the room.

“My first wedding gift to you as your husband,” he began, taking a step back. “Is him.”

Erik pointed at the jailer. The man shuffled slightly from side to side, attempting to hide his very visible terror. You squeezed Erik’s hand in discomfort. He squeezed is back harder in silent acknowledgement and reassurance.

“He is yours to do with whatever you wish.”

You cocked your head slightly. Your mind raced with all of the things you could do to this man.

You could kill him where he stood. You could lock him in one of the jail cells and rip the hand crank out of the floor. You could have him publicly confess his sins and then receive every lashing he administered in reparations…

But one idea rose above the others. One that wasn’t consumed with revenge, but moved you forward in life.

“Good,” you finally said. “I have an assignment for you. It will take all night, and no one sleeps until it is done.”

“Yes,” the guard whispered, accepting his new charge.

“Is that how you address your queen?” Erik barked at him, causing the man to drop to his knees in fear. “Say her name!”

“Yes, Queen Y/N!”

You look down at him in disgust.

“It’s time to pay your dues to Wakanda.”

__

The next morning, every adult in Wakanda’s kimoyo beads glowed with a message from the palace. Upon pressing play, your image appeared and your calm, soothing voice filled the room.

“My dearest Wakanda,” you began. “The past 24 hours have been tumultuous to say the very least, and I’m sure plenty of you are scared. I am here to give you answers.”

You paused briefly, taking a deep breath before diving in to your speech.

“My name is Y/N. I was a War Dog General. Many of you may recognize me.”

Wakanda’s social media began to light up as you spoke. Questions and concerns came in at lightning speed.

 

> **MrsElba: Is that, Y/N? I always wondered what happened to her.**
> 
> **AbadouYaWanna: I haven’t seen her since she went to America. Thought she was dead tbh.**

 

“I’m here to confirm for you that Wakanda is not under attack. This is not a coup, this is a homecoming,” you asserted.

“To truly understand, you must know that your government has lied to you. Prince N’Jobu did not in fact go missing on a War Dog assignment. He was murdered, by his own brother, the late King T’Chaka.” Your face hardened slightly as you stared directly in to the camera.

“Not only did he murder his brother, but he abandoned his nephew in America as an orphan destined to suffer in poverty. That child spent his entire life trying to find his way home to us, to the motherland. That is the man you see before you today. N’Jadaka Udaku.”

Reactions flooded in. Mostly outrage and a small amount of dissent. You ignored it and continued on, never breaking pace.

“T’Chaka’s reign was laced with secrecy, deception, and torture. I experienced it firsthand. For the sake of transparency, I will show it to you. But I must advise viewer discretion and the removal of any children in the room.”

There was brief pause in playback before the scene cut to footage of police brutality, violence, riots, famine… You had curated the most jarring visuals of anti-Blackness you could without pushing your audience over the edge. You continued to narrate.

“These are the video diaries of War Dogs stationed all over the world. Instances where our fellow Africans are suffering, but T’Chaka’s administration forbid us from intervening. Situations where we were simply forced to watch when he had more than the ability to help. And those of us who did the right thing and stepped in, ended up here.”

The rotating jail materialized in 3D from viewers’ wrists. It expanded, showing a detailed map of the pie slice shaped chambers.

“Myself and over 100 other War Dogs were held here on T’Chaka’s orders. Deep underground, one guard, and one exit. We were isolated, we were starved, and we were tortured here, a facility passed down from monarch to monarch. That ends today.”

 

> **HeartShapedHoe: Did T’Challa know about this? Queen Mother?**
> 
> **chocobodi83: Man, that’s so fucked… Bast.**
> 
> **mkho_sisipho: Okay, but how do we know this N’Jadaka guy’s any better. Where did he even come from? He can just show up and bam, he’s king?**

 

You reached out for Erik’s hand. He took it and stood by you in silent determination.

“Wakanda is headed towards a new future of redemption, truth, and power. With N’Jadaka as your king, and myself as your queen, we promise you change and communication. We are the new Udakus.”

The transmission ended.

You’d made sure it was available for playback. There were extra videos available, including interviews with the newly released War Dogs and a digital tour of the prison with the very jailer who staffed it.

You watched as the videos spread, quickly going viral. The trend skewed overwhelmingly in your favor and you began to plan your first public outing with Erik. They needed to see you interacting with the community… as relatable. They couldn’t see you as a threat.

If you won the people, you’d truly won Wakanda.

“You’re brilliant,” Erik said, interrupting your musing. He kissed your shoulder blades lightly.

“Thanks, babe!” you smiled, eyes still trained on your screen. You turned to him.

“I think we should start out at the market. Let people see us. I also think I should maybe wear something with a more open back so people can see my scars. Drum up some sympathy,” you planned, eyes glowing with prospect.

Erik tugged lightly at your arms, goading you out of your seat.

“Yes, yes, of course but that can wait. It’s my turn with you.”

You recognized the lust in his eyes and felt a familiar pull in the pit of your stomach.

“It’s been over a year since I’ve been up in them guts,” he growled at you, his golden caps glinting. “It’s a damn crime.”

“You’re so nasty, N’Jadaka,” you laughed, standing to follow him out of the throne room.

“I know,” he shrugged. “I’m tryna make a dynasty, girl. Let’s go make some princes.”

“And princesses!” you insisted as you gingerly stepped over the crumpled body of the jailer.

You crinkled your nose and made a mental note to replace the rug his blood had seeped in to. You’d shot him in the head the moment he had finished filming the virtual tour of the prison. He was of no use to you any longer.

“Y/N, if you don’t get your ass on,” Erik chastised you, still pulling at your wrist.

“That’s QUEEN Y/N to you,” you reminded him.

“Not until we consummate it.”

You followed with no further objections.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut next time. Gotta get back to the dick that started it all.


	7. Say My Name Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMUT

Erik lead you in to the bedroom.

He carefully removed your golden dress, peppering ever bit of exposed flesh with kisses. The room was littered with flowers and there were candles to supplement the light of the just breaking dawn. He wanted to do this properly. To make love to you… to show you how he’d missed you.

He swept you up like you weighed nothing at all and carefully deposited you on top of the silk sheets.

He captured your lips in his. He tasted like home.

He kissed you tenderly, ghosting his hands over your flesh, getting to know your body again. But you realized as he kissed you that he was acting as though he might break you. Like you were something fragile. He was being so careful that he hardly touched you at all.

You knew it came from him wanting to protect you, especially after all you’d been through. But that wasn’t want you wanted.

You put your hand on Erik’s chest and pushed him away, breaking the kiss. He looked at you with concern, like he’d hurt you.

You propped yourself up by your elbows and looked him straight in the eye.

“Fuck me, N’Jadaka,” you demanded of him.

A fire lit behind his eyes and he suddenly pulled you up from the bed and led you out on to the balcony. The cool morning air hit your naked skin and sent a shiver down your spine. You could see all of Wakanda from here, and if anyone were to simply look up, they would see you too. You felt your heart rate quicken in your chest and a familiar heat pool between your legs.

This is what you wanted.

Erik planned to take you overlooking Wakanda. He’d have you as the sun rose on the first day of his dynasty.

He pressed your hips up against the railing and his chest against your back. You hissed a bit as he grazed your still healing scars. But you were distracted from the pain as he pressed his thick lips against your neck.

“It’s yours,” he murmured against your skin. “All of it.”

You pushed him back with your hips. You gripped the railing and arched your back, presenting your dripping pussy to him.

“Then give me all of it.”

Without another word, Erik gripped your hips and slid completely in to you.

You cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Your voice rang out across the palace grounds as the familiar feeling filled you. Merely hours before you were unsure if you were ever going to see Erik again, and now you were his wife with his dick buried inside of you. You were… thankful.

Erik gritted his teeth, not wanting to shoot his load too early. He’d waited over a year to be with you again and he wanted to savor this moment. He held still under the guise of letting you readjust to his girth, but took a breath to get his wits about him.

When you were ready, you began to rock your hips against him. Erik dragged his length in and out a few times slowly, reveling in your gasps upon each reentry. He watched, completely enraptured, as his dick disappeared between your thighs over and over again, only to re-emerge, slick with your juices. He came out of you looking like polished onyx.

He thrust in to your harder. Though you’d lost weight while imprisoned you still bounced when he hit it, just as you did that first night at the club. You looked just as beautiful as the day he met you. And just as fuckable. He couldn’t hold back anymore.

He picked up his pace and you were soon holding on the balcony railing for dear life.

All of Wakanda could probably hear your screams. That was the way he wanted it.

He leaned over you dominantly.

“You like this king dick, girl?” Erik grunted in to your ear as he thrust in to you wildly. You yelped in affirmation and he dug even deeper in to you.

“This dick’s rude, aint it?”

Your pussy answered him this time, clenching down on his length rhythmically. Your heavy breathing dried out your throat and all of your moans were strangled. You could barely breathe as he laid in to you. You couldn’t even throw it back at him. You could only submit.

“You gone have my babies?”

The mention of having his children had your pussy pulsating and he felt it. But that wasn’t a good enough answer for Erik.

He spun you around, lifted you up and perched you precariously on the railing. You threw your arms around his neck and clutched to him desperately, both elated and terrified by the threat of falling.

Erik nestled himself between your legs again and wrapped one arm around your lower back before plunging back in to your depths.

“Answer me, Y/N. You gone have my babies?”

“Yes!” you cried out. “Yes! All of them!”

“However many I want?” Erik growled, still pounding in to you. You nodded frantically, your heart racing.

“Count them,” he demanded.

“1,” you gasped. He thrust in to you even harder as you said the number, the head of his dick grazing against your spot.

“2!”

He did it again. Each number was an accented thrust amongst his already voracious pace.

“3… 4…” your voice got higher with each number and pressure began to build up deep in your gut. You took a break from counting to breathe, feeling yourself approaching your breaking point.

“Give me more!” Erik ordered you. Sweat had begun to drip down his face and his eyes were filled with a crazed kind of lust.

“5…” you mewled, unable to handle anymore. Your legs began to shake but you were able to say one more.

“6!”

You broke.

Your vice like grip on Erik tightened even more as your orgasm ripped through you. You dug your nails in to his shoulders and threw your head back as you came. You felt simultaneously small and infinite.

“That’s right. Cum on this dick, girl,” Erik goaded you on. He slipped his hands under your knees and lifted you off of the railing. You hung suspended as he pumped in to you with a fury. The new angle served to push you right back to the brink of orgasm and Erik knew it. Your vision blurred and you moaned through clenched teeth.

Erik dug deep in to your guts, determined to have you come undone around him once more.

“Oh god. Oh god! Oh god!” you repeated as you ascended towards ecstasy. It was a different kind of orgasm coming. This one washed over you and your eyes rolled back. It felt like pure white light. Like an out of body experience. Your mouth hung open in a silent scream and your grip around Erik’s neck slipped but he caught you.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised, slowing his pace as you came down from your high. “Come back to me.”

Everything was hazy while he gently lowered you to the ground. Your legs were trembling as he led you back to the bed.

You crawled on to it and turned on to your back. You spread your legs in a wide V and beckoned to him. His thick, powerful arms pushed your legs back to your ears and he buried himself to the hilt.

“Yes,” was all you managed to say.

His eyes closed as he slipped in and out of your wet heat. You watched him as he worked. He really was beautiful. He sucked his lower lip in and his brow furrowed as he thrusted. His muscles moved together like a well-oiled machine and his skin glistened with sweat.

His abdomen tightened a few times in succession and he let out a shuddering breath. He opened his eyes and looked straight in to yours as his thrusts got more frantic and sloppy. You knew he was about to cum.

“Say my name,” he grunted, fighting his own orgasm.

You lifted your hips to allow him deeper access, and he groaned. You held his gaze as you spoke.

“Long live King N’Jadaka.”

The sound Erik made could only be described as an animalistic growl as he came. You felt your pussy flood with spurts of hot cum and you squeeze your muscles around him. If he wanted six children, you’d have to milk him for every last drop. He pressed deeper in to you and held you with your knees up to your chin until he was entirely spent.

He hesitated to pull out of you.

He only ever wanted to be in you.

Erik slid out of you reluctantly and laid his head on your stomach. He stayed just like that for a while as if he was willing his seed to do its job.

You sat in comfortable silence, simply enjoying being with one another until the sun had fully risen and streamed in to your bedroom.

“I’ve gotta go,” he said quietly. You lifted your head slightly to look at him.

“First council meeting as king.” He pulled himself up off of you and out of the bed.

“But you know the moment that’s done, I’m coming right back here and we’re doing this again. So don’t you go anywhere.”

You watched him as he slid on a thick black shawl.

It was not your favorite look of his.

“I also have another gift for you. My second gift as your husband.”

You shook your head in embarrassment. He couldn’t keep giving you things. You have nothing to give him in return and you expressed that. He insisted the greatest gift was that you were alive. That you hadn’t left him too.

“I brought some stuff you may want.”

Erik reached under the bed and pulled out an old tattered back. You recognized it as your bug out back from your apartment. You laughed as he handed it to you.

“You dragged this stupid thing around with you for a year? All the way to Wakanda?” You looked inside, finding your old Harvard sweatshirt as well.

“Oh, and one last thing,” Erik remembered suddenly. He slipped your Kimoyo beads off of his wrist and handed them back to you.

He kissed you on the forehead and headed off to his first big responsibility as king.

“Don’t go anywhere!” he demanded.


	8. Say My Name Part 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. 
> 
> I shall be writing an epilogue.

You didn’t even feel Erik get out of the bed that morning. You were awoken to him leaning over you and kissing you lightly on the forehead.

“Y/N,” Erik whispered.

“Hey, babe!” you gurgled cheerily, stretching between the silk sheets and rubbing your eyes.

Erik’s cheeks rounded as he broke in to a smile. His gold canine gleamed down at you.

“I’ve gotta head out,” he informed you. You looked up at him with a pout. “Don’t look at me like that. We’re shipping out the weapons to the War Dogs today. After that, I’m all yours, okay?”

He kissed you on the lips this time and headed towards the door.

“Eh!” you protested. Erik stopped and looked at you quizzically.

“You’re not going anywhere until I do your hair.”

He rolled his eyes, but made his way back to you. You always found some silly excuse to take up his time. But it’s not like he minded. He’d gone over a year without you, and if his queen wanted to braid his hair, then everyone else would wait.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed and parted them slightly. Erik nestled himself between your plush thighs and exhaled. You tousled his locs with your hand and began to part them in to three rows.

“You’re gonna make me late, woman,” Erik joked.

“A king is never late,” you replied haughtily. “Everyone else simply early.”

Erik turned his head to look at you suspiciously, effectively fucking up the braid you were working on.

“Did you make that up yourself? Or am I gonna find out that you’re quoting some Elle Woods shit again.”

You gasped in fake disbelief.

“No! That’s a quote from Clarisse Renaldi. The Queen of Genovia herself!”

Erik laughed loudly. His voice boomed across the room.

“Genovia sounds like a fake ass country.”

You braided his hair a little tighter and he hissed. You continued to tell him about your PR plans for the day.

You were hosting a free day at the museum for the families of Wakanda. You would be live streaming it as well in case some people couldn’t attend.

You chattered on about the different exhibits and how you used to get lost in that museum for hours as a child. How it fostered your sense of pride to be Wakandan while simultaneously fueling your curiosity about the rest of the world. How you wanted to experience that wonder again and pass it along to the children of your country.

“You really like kids, huh?” Erik asked when you finally took a breath.

“I don’t know, I guess,” you thought out loud as you finished braiding back his hair.

“Well you’d better, cause we’re gonna have all sorts of little nigglets running around.”

Your eyes widened.

“We are NOT calling them that!” you laughed, pushing his head forward slightly to let him know you were finished.

Erik stood to inspect himself in the mirror. The stupid grin that you loved so much appeared on his face once more and he shrugged on a long, black shawl.

“Ugh, I hate that thing on you,” you complained. “And your wore it yesterday…”

“It’s the only thing that fits here, ma,” Erik informed you. “That nigga T’Challa was so small.”

You made a mental note to get the tailor in to make some new custom clothes for the king. You moved to stand in front of Erik and placed your hands across his broad, scarred chest. You ran the tips of your fingers lightly over the golden plate around his neck.

“Well this is the only thing that needs to fit,” you reminded him, smiling at the technology around his neck.

“Aight, I really gotta bounce,” he announced. He kissed you once more before lightly jogging out of the door.

“Have a great day at the museum, babe!” he yelled over his shoulder. “I’ve got a present for you when you get back!”

–

The free day at the museum went splendidly. You were instantly transported to a simpler time as small children pulled you by the hand through an exhibit on the arctic tundra. One child clutched to your skirt as you explained that the giant musk oxen in front of him wasn’t real and wouldn’t hurt him. You yipped and howled with a group of pre-teens in an ice covered cave, and led the toddlers through snow sensory play. 

Those watching it on live stream were sharing the videos all over social media. You’d seen more than a few “we stan a benevolent queen”s fly by in the comment sections on your kimoyo beads.

You had just made your announcement to the crowd that the museum would be permanently free and funded by the royal family when you heard it.

You weren’t sure of it at first due to the cheers of happy families, but it was definitely an explosion.

The Dora Milaje accompanying you came rushing in to the room.

“What is going on?” you asked in a hushed tone, determined to present an air of calm in front of all of these families.

Your personal guard, Wambura, a childhood friend looked at you somberly.

“It’s the king,” she replied. Your heart jumped.

“N’Jadaka? What happened?” you demanded. Wambura hesitated to answer you, averting your eyes as you stared her down.

“No, not N’Jadaka… T’Challa.”

You stepped back, suddenly dizzy. It was impossible. It couldn’t be.

You heard another explosion and the children around you began to cry. Parents lifted up their babies and pulled the older ones closer, waiting to know what was going on and what to do. You looked around at their scared faces and smiled warmly.

“Hello, everyone!” you announced, raising your hands and gaining the room’s attention. “Please stay where you are and remain calm. You are safest here. I will personally see to what is going on.”

You stepped out of the room and bolted for the front door of the museum. Wambura beat you to it and extended her spear across the exit.

“I’m afraid I cannot let you do that,” she said quietly. You looked up at her in confusion. Her face looked pained, as though she was grappling with herself.

“A message came down from the general. We no longer serve N’Jadaka. The challenge is not complete.”

You scoffed, completely taken aback.

“It’s civil war,” Wambura continued. You were about to retort when you heard yet another explosion. This one shook the building You looked back to your childhood friend, eyes pleading with her.

“Wambura, please. Come with me.”

She continued to avoid your eyes, obviously conflicted.

“The two of us need not fight,” you implored her. “We never fight.”

Wambura hesitated for a moment before making an internal decision. She grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the exit.

“This way!”

–

The two of you darted through the streets, utilizing short cuts and secret passages you discovered as kids. You flanked tight to Wambura’s side and listened intently to the transmission from her Kimoyo beads as you approached the scene of the battle.

“T’Challa and N’Jadaka have fallen in to the mines!” a Dora updated the team. Wambura took a sharp left down a side street and pulled a sewer grate from the ground with one hand. She practically threw you down the hole.

Your feet splashed in to the dank water and you looked up to her, ready to help her down.

“This is as far as I can go with you, Y/N,” Wambura called to you. “I must aide the Dora. You know the way!”

Wambura’s head disappeared from view and you were left blinking in to the bright sunlight above. It took a few moments for your eyes to adjust and your memory of the underground to return and you took off running.

Left, left, right, left, up and left again.

You repeated it to yourself as you ran. You didn’t know what it was that you would do once you got there, but you knew you had to get there.

You reached the end of the tunnels and the lip of the mine just in time to see T’Challa bury a blade deep in Erik’s chest.

You felt it as though the sword had settled between your own rib cage.

You cried out in to the mine, but your voice was drowned out by passing vibranium trains. You began to run again, but the mine was a labyrinth and you were hardly half way to them when T’Challa heaved Erik up by his shoulders and loaded him on to a lift.

The pair zoomed upwards and you searched wildly for another lift to the top of the shaft. You spotted one to your right and took off. You climbed and leapt over rocks glistening with vibranium deposits, your hands blackening against the stone as you did so. Your heart was pounding so hard that your pulse howled in your ears. Your lungs burned as your ran and your legs practically collapsed under you when you reached the lift.

You slammed your hands on the controls and the platform rocketed upwards.

Your eyes struggled to adjust to the sunlight, but the two men came in to view.

You saw it all as if in slow motion. You had finally managed to pull yourself up to the mouth of the cave just in time to see the love of your life pull the blade from his chest, the serrated edges tearing more of his flesh out with them. His lungs rattled as they pushed out their last reserves of air and blood streamed down the slick black suit.

“Erik!” you screamed. You hurled your body forward, racing against time. If you could get to him before the cruel clutches of Death did, you could save him. You had to.

Erik’s eyes briefly met yours as he descended. His head hit the rocks with a sickening thud and his body relaxed in to a pool of his own blood.

You pushed past T’Challa and fell at Erik’s side. Your knees scraped against the stone, but you didn’t feel it. You only felt the warm heat of Erik’s blood as you desperately pushed your hands against the deep wound.

“Don’t you dare, Erik!” you yelled at him. “DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!”

You looked around wildly for anything that could stem the bleeding. You pulled kimoyo beads from your wrist and hastily shoved them in to the gaping hole. They lit up feebly but didn’t respond. The damage was too severe and the blood merely gurgled around the vibranium beads.

You pulled up your skirt and pressed it in a ball to his torso. The white fabric was quickly dyed a deep crimson, the liquid creeping through the threads.

Erik’s image swam before you as your eyes welled up with burning tears. You blinked them back furiously to focus on your task, but they breeched your walls and came cascading down your face. All you could see was a kaleidoscope of tears and blood, but you did feel him move a little.

“Erik?” you repeated.

“Hey, babe,” Erik wheezed.

Your heart leapt as he reached up and gripped your wrist.

He gave it a squeeze with the last of his energy before he went limp. The rattling in his chest stopped and the light behind his eyes went out.

You grabbed Erik by the shoulders and shook him.

“Baby. Baby, don’t do this. Look at me… say my name and look at me!” you wailed.

He slipped from your grip and fell lifelessly back on to the rocks. He was gone.

Erik died with his eyes open, turned towards the Wakandan sunset.

“No. No, please. PLEASE!” you gasped out, unsure of to whom you were begging. Anyone who would listen… Bast… Hanuman… Jesus…

T’Challa.

You rounded on him. The red you saw was no longer Erik’s blood, but your fury.

T’Challa did not recoil as you lunged at him. He stood still and stoic, prepared to receive whatever you’d give him.

Your blood soaked fist collided with his jaw.

You completely abandoned your usual calculated form of fighting. Your training and strategy was drowned out by pain and anger of losing Erik, being falsely imprisoned for a year, and being tortured.

You laid it all out on T’Challa, wildly swinging and screaming. He blocked most of your assault, but did not retaliate. He instead grabbed hold of your arms and pulled you towards him.

“Y/N, stop,” T’Challa said quietly.

You ripped your arms away from him, pushing off his chest as you did so and falling back to the ground.

Your crawled over to Erik’s body. You sat next to it, and took his hand. You stroked the back of his hand tenderly with your thumb. It was one of the few smooth parts left to him.

T’Challa stood silently behind you.

When you finally spoke, it was barely a croak.

“He deserved better.”

“I know,” T’Challa replied quietly.

“He deserved so much better,” you repeated, quieter this time.

T’Challa cautiously took a step towards you and surveyed his cousin’s body.

“We will give him a king’s burial,” T’Challa said, his voice colored with guilt. “We will honor him for what he was.”

You shot up suddenly and T’Challa took a quick step back.

“We?!” you yelled at him. “WHO IS WE?”

You reached for one of your kimoyo beads and clicked it on.

“You are not the King, T’Challa. Not anymore. You will do nothing of the sort!”

The image of T’Challa stabbing Erik played back from your wrist, followed closely by Erik’s death. You had been live streaming since the museum event. The Wakandan people had seen all they would need to see.

“You may have won the fight,” you informed him, ice in your voice.

“But now, to Wakanda, you are no better than your murderous father.”

T’Challa’s eyes widened as he realized the damage you had done. You’d shown a very limited view of the occurrences of the day. But you had provided the only view. Comments from viewers poured in. The country was outraged.

“You will never win your people back. In the court of public opinion, T’Challa, I am your queen!”

T’Challa’s voice broke.

“Th-this is treason. You will be locked up for this.”

“Like your father already did?” you challenged him, getting back up in his face. Confusion flickered past his eyes, but you caught it.

“Typical,” you spat at him. “Poor little Challa didn’t know his daddy locked up his old school buddy and tortured her for a year? Didn’t know his daddy murdered his own brother. Didn’t know his daddy abandoned his nephew. What else don’t you fucking know?”

You were so close to him now that he could feel your hot breath against his ear.

“You’re unfit to be king.”

–

You rushed back to your room where mere hours before you and Erik had been joking around and planning to start a family.

Erik’s blood on your hands had dried, but your skirt still dripped with every step you took. You rifled under your bed for your bug out bag. You were getting the fuck out of here. You may be queen, but old habits die hard and you had to be ready for the unexpected.

Erik dying in your arms was the last thing you’d expected.

The bag caught on the bed frame, and you huffed in frustration. You laid flat on the floor to unstick the bag and pulled it out with one final jerk. You heard something clatter to the ground and swiped your hand around a few times to locate it.

Your hand closed on a small, purple box.

“I’ve got a present for you when you get back,” Erik’s voice echoed in your head.

A small card with your name written in his handwriting was attached to a crumpled bow. You took a deep breath, and urged the tears not to return as you opened the small card.

 

“My third gift to you as your husband is my heart. The only one in the world.”

 

Your hands shook as you carefully opened the box.

The inside glowed an ethereal purple.

Sat atop a small cushion, very much alive and well, sat a heart shaped herb.


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're back to where it all began: the club where you and Erik first met.

“General, are you sure you want to do this? We can send someone else in.”

You ignored the Captain as you leaned out of the passenger’s side door and slipped your heels on. You grabbed your clutch from the floor and stood, closing the door behind you.

“Just be careful,” he urged you, exasperation in his voice. “He is dangerous. Highest military ranking. Hundreds of confirmed kills, approaching the thousands…”

You snapped your hand mirror closed, satisfied with your lipstick, and turned to face the captain sharply.

“Is there someone more qualified than me to handle this target, brother?” you sneered. “Do you want to do this yourself?” 

Despite your high rank, your older brother had never stopped babying you. At some point he needed to acknowledge your qualifications and give you the respect you deserved. You were more than ready to handle this target. You’d had your eye on him for years. 

The captain stepped back, shaking his head as he raised his hands in submission. 

“I will be right out here waiting for you. If you’re not out in two hours, I’m coming in!” He tapped pointedly on the communication bead on his wrist. You felt as if he’d just given you a curfew.

“I can handle this, brother. He is one of us.”

At that, you turned and strode gracefully towards the entrance of the club. Your brother leaned up against the hood of the car, watching you disappear in to the darkness. He clicked a Kimoyo bead and the 2-hour countdown began. 

The club was jumping. Hot, thick air clung to you as you maneuvered through the sea of gyrating bodies. You scanned the crowd carefully, catching glimpses of different faces briefly illuminated by flashing lights. This was an ineffective way to locate your target, so you began to climb the staircase to the second floor, your hips swinging sensually as you ascended. 

You stalked across the balcony, dragging your hand along the cool metal railing. You looked down upon the mass of sweaty club goers and murmured to yourself.

“I know you’re here. Come out and play.”

Moments later you spotted him. 

He was standing casually against the bar, nursing a whiskey, eyes trained on you. Seems he had seen you first.   
He arched an eyebrow and lifted his slightly as if challenging you. You smiled coyly down at him and leaned over the railing, perfectly framing your cleavage. 

This was way too easy. 

He set his drink down on the bar and made his way to you, cutting easily through the crowd. He jogged lightly up the stairs and was soon face to face with you. He leaned in and shouted over the thundering music.

“The name’s Erik!”

You looked him up and down appreciatively before responding.

“I know.”

Erik’s cheeks pushed his eyes into slits when he smiled. Rows of white teeth and gold capped fangs flashed at you before he licked his lower lips.

“Aight. So what’s your name ma?” He reached for your hips, but you stopped him, lightly grabbing his wrist.

“There’s plenty of time for that,” you purred. Still holding his wrist, you leading him back down to the dance floor, looking back at him with teasing glances every now and then. Erik followed you earnestly, his eyes raking hungrily over your curves. 

You pulled him in to the middle of the crowd and began to dance against him. He was both impressed and taken aback by your confidence. You’d come in to the club completely alone and strutted like you owned the place. Your skin glowed under the flashing purple and blue lights and your natural hair bounced as you danced. 

You were a different breed if Erik had ever seen one.

You whined your hips against him and he followed your movements effortlessly. It was like the two of you were made for each other… two pieces that fit together perfectly. You felt him grow hard underneath his pants and you couldn’t deny that you’d been wet since you’d seen him. You bent over and shook your ass, giving him a view of what was to come before flipping your hair back and making your way up. 

You spun around and placed your hands on his chest. You felt the scars beneath his sweat soaked shirt. 

Erik watched your face as your fingers traced the raised tissue. There was a sort of curiosity and understanding. Typically, women shrunk away from him until he explained that it was art. Even then they were hesitant. You seemed to already know what they were and that made him want you more.

Erik pushed your hair out of your face spoke in your ear again. Your felt his voice rumbled through his chest and the heat of his breath ghost past your neck. You shivered.

“Do you want to see them?”

You nodded, feeling a sudden pull deep in your gut. 

Erik took your hand and lead you to the bathroom. The two of you practically ran through the crowd to get to the door. 

Erik wrenched it open and practically threw you inside. 

The pounding music of the club instantly dulled when the door shut behind you. Suddenly, in this packed club on a Saturday night, it was just the two of you.

Erik’s lips crashed to yours. 

You brought your hands to his face and pulled him as close to you as you could while his tongue explored your mouth. You couldn’t get enough of him. The two of you hardly breathed as you ravaged one another and you didn’t want the moment to end.

Erik pulled away for air and you rested your forehead against his.

Your panting quickly turned to shuddering breaths as you began to cry. 

Erik kept his forehead pressed to yours, but his eyes were tightly shut, a pain knit across his face.

“Erik,” you whispered.

“Hey, babe,” he replied. “I’m guessing you found my gift.”

Your eyes flitted to his, large moonlike saucers brimming with tears.

“Yeah,” you choked out. You reached for a paper towel and dragged it across your face. You were a War Dog. The Queen of Wakanda. You didn’t cry.

“You can’t stay long,” Erik informed you. “But I’m glad you came.” 

The sounds of the club on the other side of the door were slowly fading away. The tiny bathroom stall suddenly felt even smaller.  
“Why did you leave?” you demanded of him. “Why would you leave me there?! By myself!” You slammed your hands against his chest and he took it. “We were going to start a family, N’Jadaka! You chose to throw it away!”

The tears threatened your eyes again and you hastily wiped them away. You didn’t come here to cry. You didn’t come here to be angry with him.

“I could have saved you! Had you waited just a few more minutes... if you had just fucking TRUSTED ME!”

Erik gripped your shoulders tightly and looked down at you from behind his loose dreads.

“I do trust you, Y/N. I trust that you’ll finish what we started. I trust that you’ll make an amazing Queen and Black Panther. I trust that you’ll make a great mother.”

You pulled back from him and scoffed angrily.

Did he just expect you to move on with your life? He gets to leave you and you have to find some other guy and start a family with him? 

“What are you talking about?”

Erik smiled knowingly at you. He shrugged.

“So six kids was a bit excessive. How does one sound?”

You were confused. You started to question what he meant when your Kimoyo beads lit up. Your brother’s face materialized from your wrist.

“General, It’s been two hours. It’s time to go.”

You looked back and forth between your brother’s face and Erik’s. The bathroom walls began to blur, fading away piece by piece.

“No! No!” you repeated. You weren’t done. That was barely any time at all.

You reached out for Erik, unsure of what was going on. 

“It’s okay,” he assured you. “I’ll be here waiting for you.”

He pressed his lips to yours one final time. They weren’t warm like before. You could hardly feel him.

“Name her after my mother, okay?” Erik asked before he faded in to blackness.

\--

You woke up with a sudden shuddering breath. You felt as if your soul had crashed back in to your mortal body after visiting the ancestral plane. You were disoriented and scared. You frantically reached around in the darkness of the cave you’d taken refuge in after fleeing the castle only hours before. You knocked over the mortar and pestle you’d used to crush up the heart shaped herb and you slowly figured out where you were.

The effects of the herb ran through you. You felt strong. You felt lethal. You could get up right now, return to the palace and claim the throne that was rightful Erik’s. The one he’d sat upon merely days before.

But for now you would rest.

You laid down and curled up to try to sleep. You found yourself absentmindedly stroking your stomach. Erik had made sure he’d live on once he was gone. He was always two steps ahead.

You laid your hand flat against your newly pregnant belly, thankful that someone was there with you in the darkness. 

“Hey, baby.”


End file.
